


Light Behind Your Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's when Sam comes back from the dead the first time that Dean breaks in half and spills himself over the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Behind Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by this song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76WJJ57YoG0 and one of the first things i've written in a long time. i'm sorry it's so bad. thanks for reading.

\---

It's when Sam comes back from the dead the first time that Dean breaks in half and spills himself over the both of them.

Sam lies on a crappy filthy mattress and he's been lying there for 2 and a half days and Dean is the one who put him there and he spills himself out then -- words bottled and fermented over the years, their entire life as they knew it, are flooding through the gaping hole that is Sam-shaped inside Dean's chest. This is where his light burns out.

 

He tells Sam everything he forgot he wanted to say, everything he knows is true but pretended not to. He tells Sam's shell (Sam isn't here anymore, man, you gotta admit that) that it wouldn't change John's mind but that if he hadn't been so sure that Sam hated both of them, Dean would have fought John. Fought tooth and nail to keep Sam at home where he belongs next to him.

He tells Sam how much he tore himself apart after he let - no, forced - Sam out of the house and out of his lungs and out of his life and he tells him, over and over, until his throat hurts just as much as the day his brother had his hands around Dean's neck, how sorry he is.

It's still not enough.

He tells his Sammy (no, not his - he doesn't deserve to own him) about how much he loved it when they had to share a motel bed or the backseat of the Impala because those were the only times when Dean slept sound, knowing that nothing could penetrate the grip he had on his baby brother.

Dean tells Sam that he loves him, and that he's always loved him, and that he's sorry he couldn't muster up the balls enough to say it until tonight… in a dilapidated shack with Sam's dried blood on his chest.

Sam doesn't stir. Doesn't reach out to crush Dean with one of his enveloping hugs (Dean makes sure to tell Sam how alive those always made him feel), doesn't roll his eyes or sass back. Sam stays still.

 

Stanford wasn't shit compared to this. None of John's punches or sharp words or utter indifference would ever hurt like this. Hell would never hurt like this. Nothing is left now but the piece of shit excuse of a soul to offer up in hopes that in exchange, Dean could have his light back.

 

\---

 

9 hours later, Sam wakes up and Sam gasps in his first breath that wasn't supposed to fill his tired lungs ever again and ( _samsamsamsam!)_  Dean can't breathe, and he wonders if it's because his heart crawled right in through the gash in Sam's spine to sleep next to Sam's heart and that's okay because Dean would rather be as close as possible to every part of his baby brother than breathe anyway.

Which was why it was so easy to do just that.

 

\---

 

Sam doesn't know just how borrowed this is, not yet.

 

\---

 

It's 3 days later, and Sam has Dean shoved up against the passenger side of the Impala and he's tearing the lining of his own throat yelling at Dean for being so selfish, for making Sam grow old without his brother (his breath his blood his light) by his side.

He's raw, and he's scared, and now Sam is the brother unable to breathe.

 

\---

 

It's 1am and Dean is watching the tremor in Sam's fingers as they chase words across a valley of books from the two separate beds in a motel room that smells like cigarettes and plastic and gun oil. Sam is scared and Dean wants to shake it out of Sam, along with the false hope that there is any other way out of this aside from Dean to trade his life for Sam's.

It's all Dean had been, and would ever be good for anyway.

 

The space between Sam's mattress and Dean's is a valley in itself. It's an ocean of tension and Dean can't be on the other side of it as his brother and his heart that went wherever Sam was. It's dark, being soulless and heartless like that. It's cold as hell and it feels like death before Dean's ready for it and he's shaking and _(samsamsamohgodsam!)_  everything goes black and static and Dean's suffocating. This is what happens when you tear yourself open and forget to suture the wound. Dean has to move he has to get up so he stands up and he's walking and he thinks it's towards Sam until the cold wind and rain hits his face and his vision clears and he's outside and the rain feels like needles and Dean deserves this.

He deserves this.

Not Sam. Never Sam. He was never supposed to have to clean up after Dean. That's not how this is supposed to go.

Dean's shaking and there's a keening mantra of "Nonononono" that could only be coming from him but he can't be bothered to check because he's slamming both his fists at once into the brick wall separating him from Sam, and all that comes out of his mouth when he tries to scream is the crack of a whimper and then he's up against the mortar like he's trying to seep through to the room where his brother is still trying to find an exit from the road Dean paved for himself and he can't shake the fucking truth that they both know - that Dean is too selfish to breathe without Sam's heartbeat shotgun next to his.

He's gasping and he's screaming but his throat is closed up and he can't make a sound, can't breathe can't move and his chest is heaving but there's nothing going in or out but the light that is Sam.

Samsamsamsam.

Dean slides down the bricks and cups his eye sockets with the calloused and scarred palms of his hands and he presses in until all he sees are stars.

He stays there for god knows how long, and then he straightens back up and presses his forehead to the cold and unforgiving bricks and he wills them to be the softest thing he ever feels again.

He deserves this.

Then there's a light that trickles over a patch of snow and slush and there's the sound of a door snapping shut and then there's the immediate warmth of the closeness that is Dean's brother Sam and it's his hand (oh god Sam's hand on his) gripping Dean's shoulder that makes the last piece of himself fall and shatter and Dean is done pretending that he's not a mess on the ground so he turns halfway towards Sam and he wraps his palm around his brother's elbow and pulls and then Sam's the one pressed up against the wall only he's not forehead first where Dean had been - the bricks are stabilizing the back of his head and he's pinned by his arms and elbows and he's an inch away from his brother's painfully bright eyes (god, he could plant trees in those forests of green) and they are both breathing the same air at the same time now and time slows and stops as both brothers breathe as one.

Dean is broken, and so he doesn't have the will or the want to stop himself as he leans forward and presses his lips against his brother's chapped and bruised mouth (from the single halfhearted punch Dean threw that day when Sam finally found out that Dean was a dead man walking) and it's too late to back out now and Dean waits for the rough shove and punch that he knows he deserves for wanting this. He waits, but it doesn't come. Instead, he feels Sam stiffen and then relax into Dean's mouth, and he's kissing Dean back (oh god this isn't real can't be real) (but it is) and suddenly there's not a hellhound or demon that could tear Dean away from this taste of Heaven that he doesn't deserve but he'll drink it up anyway because it's _Sammy_ and it's the only good thing left and if Dean's going to Hell, damn-all if he isn't going to drown himself in his brother until his last wheezing breath. Dean wrestles between voilently tearing into that gorgeous goddamn mouth that belongs to his baby brother (his, for now finally his) and kitten kissing him like the fragile bird that he is right now. He wants to say he's sorry and he wants to absorb the bruise away from Sam's perfect mouth so he keeps his lips pressed against Sam's lips and his body against Sam's body and they are both trembling and it's cold and they are soaked but it's all numb to them because Sam is kissing Dean and _(ohgodohgodohgoddeandeandean)_ and Dean is kissing Sam and _(ohmygodsammy)_ and they're as close as skin and bone will allow and together they breathe.

They breathe.


End file.
